“Growing up in an Italian family, there has always been a big emphasis on food.

Our cupboards, fridges and freezers at home are always well stocked. Every Friday, I receive a reminder from Mum and Dad to add whatever I want to the weekly shopping list. If I haven’t taken any lunch to work with me, my parents are usually quick to notice. When I go to Nonna’s house, the cafeteria comes out and she motions for me to have some of the biscotti or chocolates on the table. If I’m the first to finish eating at a family get together, the host soon tells me to go up for seconds.

Food is at the center of family gatherings, visits to peoples homes and day to day life. Bringing the family together over a dish of pasta or Nonna’s cannoli is a lovely thing. Yet it has also proven to be one of the greatest challenges I have faced since being diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. I have been conditioned to eat for as long as I can remember and diabetes has really challenged me to break away from this.”

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As many of the people around me will attest to, I don’t have a very broad depth of cuisines. I can’t stand recipes that have long ingredient lists, none of which I can ever find in my cupboards and fridges at home. Ingredients which I will have to buy for the one recipe, and have no use for ever again. Over the years, I’ve been well trained to adapt.

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My red, plastic plate was piled high. I’d grabbed a scoop of hot apple crumble topped with Connoisseur ice-cream, a Cherry Ripe chocolate cupcake and a slice of liquor sponge cake from the desert table at our family get together over the weekend.

Get togethers in our family are all about the food. I spent most of Thursday telling Mum that she’d prepared way too much for our get together that evening, and the remainder of the weekend saying I told you so. Nonetheless, you still want to try and have a little bit of all the deliciousness.

“How do you manage the sweets with your diabetes?” my Uncle asked me as I sat down at the table with my plate.

After all these years with type 1, you sort of begin to expect these kinds of questions. I mean, even I get a little conscious when I sit down with a piled plate, wondering what others must think.

I went on to explain that I would look at the plate and estimate that I had at least 100g of carbs there.

I went on to say that I would enter 100g into my insulin pump, and that the pump would deliver an insulin dose for me.

I went on to explain that I can technically eat anything, so long as I cover it with insulin.

I went on to explain that I should still be mindful of how many carbs I eat, but that it was Easter and I didn’t care so much today.

I went on to explain that if it wasn’t Easter and I did care a bit more, a back up bolus of at least 15 minutes would also be helpful.

I didn’t explain the months of hard work that went into perfecting my basal rate, so that my mealtime insulin does its job and doesn’t get stuck in quicksand.

I didn’t explain how I weigh all of the food I prepare at home, multiply that weight by carb factors, and then divide it by my own unique insulin to carb ratio.

I didn’t explain how some foods are digested very slowly, while others are digested very rapidly, and insulin needs to be backed up or delayed accordingly.

I didn’t explain that a larger, higher fat or restaurant meal, requires a temporary basal rate for several hours to combat the insulin resistance.

I didn’t explain the importance of checking my blood sugar levels post meal, to ensure that my insulin is doing its job.

I didn’t explain that sometimes I get it wrong, and I end up eating my way out of lows.

I didn’t explain that sometimes I also get it wrong, and I end up shovelling down insulin and bucket loads of water at 3am to bring down the highs.

I didn’t explain the huge investment I’ve had to put into learning, observing and applying, so that I don’t make these errors so often and see more numbers in range.

I know that my uncle wasn’t trying to be rude or judgemental. And it was nice of him to ask. I liked that it opened up the dialogue, and that I could deflate the stigma around sweets and diabetes.

It’s just a shame that despite how simply I’d put it, nobody in that room will remember a word of what I said.

It’s a shame that despite how many times I check my blood sugar or pull out my pump during the day, nobody seems to notice the diabetes.

It’s a shame that I’m only ever asked these questions when I’m seen with a plate piled high with desert.

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Most afternoons of late, I’ve been coming home and sinking my teeth into something sweet. Like the Ice Cream Pannettone sitting in the freezer, that we made with one of our leftover Panettone from Christmas.

The leftover Pancakes I made for breakfast last weekend. A bowl of ice cream. The stash of Woolies choc chip Hot Cross Buns sitting in the freezer. Or, the block of Kit Kats that was on sale last week.

This is rather different to burnouts I’ve experienced in the past, because I’m still diligently covering my carbs with insulin. Dare I say, I’m covering my carbs with insulin quite well. The Calorie King app is my lifeline for things like the pancakes, or the choc chip hot cross buns. If I’m guessing for that Panettone ice cream, I weigh it first and estimate that it’s got at least 50-60% carbohydrate content. My insulin to carb ratio seems spot on most of the time. My levels honestly aren’t bouncing around all over the place, that I sort of feel like I can get away with it.

I’m also in the midst of what I refer to as the lazy time of year. It’s been a warm start to March. There’s little motivation to go outside, or doing something more productive after work. The heat sucks all the energy out of me, that crashing in front of the air con is the most tempting option at the end of the day. The mornings haven’t been the most comfortable to wake up to either, lacking that cool, crisp and fresh feeling. Thankfully, it seems to be coming to an end…

The energy spike and crash from these carbs isn’t helping my cause. I have felt pretty damn lousy this past week or two as a result. I feel exhausted. I have observed noticeable changes in my mood. I shouldn’t feel like I am limping toward the finish line on Friday, despite a stressful week.

I know what I need to be doing. Cutting back on the sugar laden foods. Swapping some of the carbs out for fruit, veggies and proteins. Being more organised with meals and snacks. Swapping the spontaneity with more set times to eat.

This is different to burnouts I have experienced in the past, because I don’t feel particularly burned out. I am still actively managing my blood sugar levels and counting carbs. I know I have a lot going on at the moment. Perhaps taking my foot off the pedal and eating whatever I want, is simply a way for me to cope the demands of diabetes and life at the moment.

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I picked up the book The Fast Diet after a lousy day last week, and quickly became engrossed in it.

You’ve probably heard of the author, Dr Michael Mosley, from his show Trust Me I’m a Doctor on SBS (which is an excellent alternative to some of the manufactured reality shows on at the moment). Michael has a family history of diabetes, and began to explore intermittent fasting some years ago when his doctor told him he was at risk of developing type 2.

Better known as the 5:2 diet, the basic idea is that you eat 500-600 calories for two days of the week, ideally incorporating a fasting “window” of 12 hours or more on a fasting day. The remainder of the time, you are allowed to eat normally. Many fans observe that it doesn’t feel like a diet, because tomorrow you’ll be able to eat whatever you want. It’s a sustainable way to lose weight and keep it off. Over time, you’ll better recognise hunger and have less of an appetite for large or unhealthy meals.

The book is peppered with plenty of research, facts and statistics supporting the idea of intermittent fasting. Michael explains that people in primitive times did not eat four of five times a day like we do today. They would feast when they came across food, and would often go without for long periods of time inbetween where food was scarce.

I found it remarkable that the average time inbetween ‘eating occasions’ has dropped by an average of an hour in the last 30 years. Thinking about myself alone, I would struggle to last inbetween meals without having something – even if it’s just a coffee. At school and work, I have been engineered to have morning recess and coffee breaks, which inevitably come with the desire for food. Diabetes mags seem to encourage this notion that we have to keep eating to avoid going low. Michael also argues that the idea of eating little and eating often has been partly driven by manufacturers of snack foods.

Michael explains that while we have food digesting in our system, the body is focussed on growth and replenishment. When the body goes without food for 12 hours, it begins to do something different. It enters repair mode, instead focussed on keeping you in reasonable shape until the food returns once more. It begins doing all of the little maintenance tasks that it has put off until now – things such as breaking down or recycling old and tired cells.

For the record, intermittent fasting is not recommended for someone with type 1 diabetes. And obviously, tending to a hypo trumps a fast.

However, some of the concepts in this book really spoke to me. I really liked the idea of a mental challenge not to graze and stack insulin doses as often as I do. I struggle to get through lunch and dinner without having something – even if it’s just a coffee. I have often skipped breakfast if I’ve had a large evening meal and wait until I genuinely feel hungry again. I have found that this is a great way to “resensitise” my insulin after grazing and stacking, and that I appreciate my food more by the time I eat it. When I think about it, my best days do tend to happen when I’m not frequently grazing and insulin stacking.

Overall, the book was both engrossing and easy to read. For a while now, I’ve been keen to do something that might help me to feel a little less lousy and a little more energetic. And, of course, ensure my insulin is working at it’s best. With a commitment of only two days per week – or even just one – it’s definitely something that I’d be inclined to dabble with.